


most wonderful time of year

by fruectose



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, anyway. sorry. love u enjoy (or dont idk), i simply do not re-read nor beta nor edit so, what u see is first drafts ONLY baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruectose/pseuds/fruectose
Summary: I'm just putting all my hildays-themed prompt fics in here haha
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 197





	1. dear patience

“This is so _stupid_.”

There are a million things that Percy loves about his girlfriend. He loves how her nose is always running and he loves that she laughs at every joke he makes- even the ones that are decidedly _not_ funny. He loves how she looks on Christmas morning- ambling about their house in her reindeer pyjamas and her hottie pressed close to her chest. In the dead of winter, she is the fire’s warmest flame.

Yeah. He loves her more than anything in the world. Annabeth is soft, and kind and- entirely pissed off.

She fusses over her present for a moment and rabidly claws at the careful, neat wrapping that had taken Percy hours to get done. She huffs in indignation when she finds another, equally elegantly wrapped box inside. Percy has to fight back a smile. Her growing frustration only fuels the laughter brewing in his belly; makes the surprise that much sweeter.

“I swear, you’re almost there.” He tells her. She’s three boxes in. By ‘almost’, of course, he means she’s got nine to go before the ring box. The anticipation is killing him but the frown on Annabeth’s face is as calming as it is exciting. She scowls at him.

“I cannot believe your Christmas present to me is a stupid _prank_.”

“And I cannot believe you’re putting up this much of a fuss.” Percy leans back against the couch as she shimmies her fourth box out and sits down beside him.

Her present is finally small enough to be set on her lap, even it she can barely see the top. She cranes her neck and squints as she runs her blade through the tape. She peers at the next box in line that sits snugly within and the look she gives him is nothing short of murderous.

“If you decided to finally get me that kitten I’ve been asking for and it’s _dead,_ Percy…” She trails off, struggling to peel her next box out. She holds it with the length of both her arms and gives it a shake, but Percy was careful in wrapping the boxes tightly into each other. It makes no sound, giving nothing away. Annabeth discards the fourth cardboard box- the same one that their new microwave had arrived in that Percy had reused- and glares at her fifth (and still not even half the way in) faux present.

“What is it?” Annabeth demands then, setting down her box.

_A whole lot of tape, wrapping paper, and hours invested that I’ll never get back_ , Percy thinks drily. He juts his chin out towards her present instead and Annabeth narrows her eyes. He can already tell, just by the air around her, that she’s drawing enemy lines; can tell by the reddening of her cheeks that each passing fake present stokes the fire of defiance in her chest.

“Just open it.”

Annabeth looks between the box and him suspiciously, as if expecting something to jump out and poke her eye out. Then she does something both disappointing and unsurprising. She sets down her scissors and folds her arms over her chest, sticking her nose up into the air and sniffling.

“No.”

“Annabeth.” He rolls his eyes. “Quit being a baby.”

“ _No_.” She insists.

Percy would have had to be an idiot to have not seen this coming. His girlfriend is many things. Patient is not one of them. He knew that going in, knew that the chances of him having to personally fish the ring out himself and then mumble an apology instead of a delivering long, heart-rending proposal are higher with Annabeth than any other human being on the planet. She raises one eyebrow at him, challenging him, waiting for him to rise to the bait.

“I’m not going to beg you to open your own Christmas gift.” Percy says. He leans his back against the couch and rolls his neck. Annabeth sets aside her box of boxes (and impending proposal) and makes to crawl up to him but Percy pushes her away, keeping her at an arm’s distance. Annabeth whines and blinks her large eyes at him. “Oh no.” He tells her, shaking his head. “There’s no way you’re sharing my body heat. That’s for girls who open my presents.”

“Fine, then.” Annabeth says, leaning away from him. Percy lets his hand drop to the couch in the space between them, his fingers lying inches from her feet. “Find another girl- someone who’d put up with this.” She gestures to the box on the floor. “See if I care.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe _she’ll_ appreciate her totally awesome Christmas gift.”

“Good, because I certainly will _not_ appreciate this _stupid_ gift. At _all_.”

“So, just to confirm,” Percy says slowly. “You don’t care about what’s in here.”

“No.”

“ _No_ part of you wants to know?”

“Of course not. It’s probably going to be like, Russian nesting dolls or something.” Annabeth grumbles and Percy wonders why he didn’t think to do that instead. Making her go through a ton of boxes only to find a nesting doll? That’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He grins.

“You’re always so funny when you’re angry.”

“I’m funny all the time.”

“Bet your gift would have made for a funny story. Too bad that I’m going to go back and return this bad boy and you’ll go your whole life never knowing what was in this box…” Percy trails off.

“That isn’t going to work, Jackson.” Annabeth blows a raspberry and curls into herself, hugging her hottie to her chest and nuzzling it with her nose.

Percy hums mildly, letting her words hang in the air. If he lets her stew for just long enough, her curiosity will break her down and she’ll just _have_ to know what he got her.

She looks up at him for a moment, and he doesn’t miss how her eyes flicker back to her present and her jaw slackens for the flash of an eye. Then she gives him another dirty look and goes back to snuggling with her hot water bottle. Impatience and stubbornness, Percy thinks fondly as the love of his life struggles to tame her two biggest demons. He imagines it’s killing her, not knowing what he’s got her- he also knows for a fact that Annabeth would much sooner accept death before defeat, most of all to him.

This must be excruciating, he thinks giddily- and that’s a Christmas present of its own.

“You know what?” Annabeth asks finally. She moves her foot and kicks his hand out from between them, and Percy braces himself for the big reveal, hoping he doesn’t look _too_ smug _. Of course_ she’s going to cave. Annabeth has never been able to let anything go in her entire life. As if she was about to start _now_. “I don’t care what it is. Return it.”

Percy stares at her. He’s known Annabeth for twelve years, he thinks, and he couldn’t have predicted this.

“Uh… no.” He says. Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” She mimics.

“I mean you chose the wrong answer. You _have_ to open it.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Annabeth responds.

Percy blinks at her. “Yeah, but like… I _bought_ you it.”

“ _So_? Now you can return it on my behalf.” Annabeth says. “I am not opening a box in a box in a box. I am a grown woman.”

“I _wrapped_ it for you!” Percy tries again. He’s running out of reasons- and he’s running out of them fast. Annabeth refuses to budge.

“That’s how you _chose_ to spend your time.” She tells him and Percy is at a complete loss for words. Annabeth sits on the couch, one leg tucked under her and her face pressed to her hottie and she grins at him. The tables had turned- _she’s_ the one messing about with _him_. She’s so annoying. He’ll never get tired of her.

“Oh my god, Annabeth… you are so _difficult_ sometimes.”

“If it matters so much to you, you open it yourself.” She says, not even trying to downplay her satisfaction.

“No.” Percy tells her. She narrows her eyes. “It’s not important enough for me to open your gift for you. Either you do it, or I toss it out.”

Please, please, please take the bait, he pays. If she makes him throw a diamond ring in the bin because neither of them will cave, he’ll never forgive her. The thought of having to spend all that money to get her _another one_ makes Percy’s vision momentarily blur. She studies him carefully, as if trying to figure out by the look on his face whether or not his gift is something he wants her to have desperately enough. Percy stares directly into her eyes, hoping his eyes say, _don’t test me, I’ll do it_ \- and not _please don’t ruin what was supposed to be a fun engagement story_. One day, Percy thinks as his girlfriend scrutinises him, they’ll tell their kids how their parents almost never got married because their mother refused to open a stupid fucking box. Finally, Annabeth lets out a long, resigned sigh.

“Fine. You win. Are you happy now?” She whines, peeling herself painstakingly off the couch and bending over her gift and Percy feels like he can breathe again. He clears his throat and places his palm on her back, running it up and down her spine before tangling his fingers in her hair while she whizzes through boxes five, six and seven. “This better be worth it, Percy.” Annabeth warns, but any bite in her complaints gets lost in how she leans into his touch anyway. “This better be a piece of the fucking moon you’ve got in here.”

“Not quite.” Percy says mildly as he plays with her hair. “Bring it up here so I can see.”

Annabeth pulls up her present, now the size of a shoe box, and looks up at him with a giant smile.

“Oh my god, you did _not_ get me the McQueen wedges!” She cries and Percy shrugs his shoulders weakly.

“You’re right. I did... _not_.” He tells her, hoping his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. Somehow, buying her those wedges would have gone even higher overbudget than a diamond ring.

There’s an anti-climax when she realises he wasn’t joking about the shoes and for a second, he worries if maybe he’d made the wrong choice. Annabeth’s confusion gets more and more palpable as she works her way through the boxes until she lets out an

“ _Oh_.”

She pauses, her hand inside the last box where Percy knows for a fact there is, without doubt, a ring, and she looks up at him. Her eyes are wide and already starting to water, her lips slightly parted and forming a small ‘o’. She opens her mouth and then closes it, and then tries again.

“Is this a joke?” Her voice is only just above a whisper. There is no more smugness, no competition or frustration or humour left on her face- only wonder so pure Percy almost forgets to respond.

“Of course not.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she leans into him, her hands still buried inside the last box, out of sight.

Percy didn’t know how proposals usually went- didn’t know if long, heartfelt speeches were the norm or a romance fantasy- so he never planned one out. He looks at Annabeth now and tries to string three words together, to say _anything_ about all she means to him. All the words in all the languages of the world couldn’t do justice to their relationship. Percy starts his day with her curled up into him and he ends it with her, sticking her cold toes between his legs- that’s what they are. That’s what he hopes they’ll always be. Day and night and everything in between. His tongue feels like lead.

“You’re my best friend.” He manages finally. Annabeth nods, her eyes starting to redden as tears begin to pool.

“And you’re mine.”

She pulls her hand out and shows him her fingers- long and delicate like he has seen so many times before, only now with a diamond sitting squarely on her ring finger.

It’s not like Percy didn’t expect her to say yes, but there’s a shock that comes with being _engaged_ to his favourite person in the entire world that makes his hands tremble. Slowly, he takes her hand in his and brushes his thumb over her fingers, feeling the cool metal band on his skin. He bends down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

Annabeth pulls away gently, cupping her hands instead on either side of his face and tilting him until he’s facing her. She leans forward and kisses him softly, slowly, and for long enough to make him dizzy- once, twice, and then a third time. By the time she stops, Percy is out of breath.

“I take it you liked the present, then?” He asks her when he’s got enough oxygen in his bloodstream to be obnoxious again. Annabeth pretends to consider it.

“What’s the refund policy, again?”

“None. It’s a lifelong commitment, apparently.”

Annabeth crawls into his lap, her cheeks tear-stained, and wraps his arms around his neck. Her fingers play with his hair and she pulls him back to her lips.

“That’s unfortunate.” She mumbles against him.

“Guess we’ll just have to make it worth it.”


	2. outsourced

As if the holidays aren’t already the most stressful time of the year, the heater gives out just when the temperature drops to twenty degrees and Annabeth is _not_ happy.

“Well, this is just ridiculous.” She manages with some difficulty against the biting cold as she glares at her unresponsive radiator. As though it’s any less ridiculous that she’s talking out loud to it. She shrugs her favourite purple puffer over her shoulders and pulls a lavender beanie over her head before settling down on the floor.

There’s a distant memory, locked away somewhere- of her dad telling her how it’s important for every driver to know how to change a tyre. _If you own a car, you need to know when something is wrong, and you need to know how to fix it,_ he’d said. Annabeth had liked that- she would grow into a strong, independent woman who could change her own tyres and fix her own engines- or so she’d thought- and then she’d gone right ahead and ignored her father’s advice. Way to go, Annabeth, she thinks drily. Maybe if she’d learned the basics of central heating.

It’s only one evening, she reminds herself. One evening, and she’ll be in marginally warmer San Francisco, where she can replace the cold of her broken radiator with the iciness of her family. She can deal with the present situation when she comes home in two weeks. She spends a fair chunk of her time scowling at the wall and being angry at her dad’s only useful piece of advice; and is only drawn out of her thoughts when she hears her phone vibrate loudly against her wooden table.

“Hello?” She says through chattering teeth, not bothering checking the caller ID. She’s too busy being inconvenienced by the phone call.

“What are you doing, sitting in an ice bath in the dead of winter?”

* * *

Whether she recognizes him by the voice or the sarcasm, she can’t tell- and maybe they’re synonymous. Annabeth feels a small smile on her lips that she absolutely did _not_ authorise- much like the faint flicker of affection deep within her chest at the thought of her best friend. She takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop herself from shivering.

“What do you want, Jackson?” She asks, leaning back against the wall. There’s a small pause.

“Can I come by and pick up your keys? I promised Clarisse I’d go over later tonight and I don’t want to miss you before you leave.” Percy’s tone softens by the end of that and Annabeth is numb all over except for the smile growing on her face.

“Oh.” Annabeth pauses. She looks wearily over at her heater, knowing fully well that given the chance, Percy would make a big deal of it, like she needs the hassle of him fretting over her right now. Some part of her blames his handyman skills for never having picked up a trick or two of her own. “Sure. Just be quick though, because I haven’t started packing yet.”

“Your flight is in four hours.”

“Which is why I don’t need you distracting me.”

“Whatever. I’m on my way.”

“See you when you’re here. I love you.” Annabeth says, scrambling to her feet. She hadn’t been lying about not having packed.

“Love you.” She hears Percy say before the line goes dead.

Annabeth spends the seventeen minutes before he arrives dropping exactly two jumpers and a pair of boots into her suitcase and then staring vacantly at the work she’d managed to get done. Percy is at her door then, wearing an unbuttoned denim jacket, basketball shorts and an equally offensive grin.

“Your designated plant water-er, reporting for duty.”

Snow is starting to melt on his shoulders, in his hair and down his bare legs, but he holds his arms open and pulls her into a hug and Annabeth can’t be sure he’s even registered the temperature yet.

They stumble into her apartment like that, Percy’s arms tightly wrapped around her and his face- hard jaw, sharp nose and all- painfully nuzzling the top of her head. He kicks the door shut, still holding her in a death grip to his chest and her nearly gives way under his weight.

“There’s my girl.” He says throatily into her beanie. His icy palms have somehow made its way around her head and sit against her bare cheeks, sending a fresh wave of shivers down her spine. She feels him draw back.

Percy holds her at arms’ length and frowns slightly as he examines her, seemingly only just noticing her get up.

“Why are you dressed like that?” He asks.

“ _You’re_ the one dressed like you’re off to the Bahamas. We’re in the midst of a _snow storm_.” Annabeth deflects, but that’s never worked on anyone- least of all her best friend. His frown deepens as he looks around her apartment suspiciously.

“And your heating isn’t at like, six hundred degrees.” He observes and Annabeth bites her tongue. This is about to become a whole _thing_ , she can tell as she watches him put the pieces together. “Is your radiator broken?”

It’s quick deductive thinking, she’ll give him that. She sighs. “Yeah, but like- don’t make a big deal of it, okay? It just happened this afternoon and I’ll deal with it when I’m back.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Percy cries, covering the breadth of her apartment in three large steps and kneeling down by the radiator, examining it with concentration that reminds Annabeth of her brothers when they’re playing Halo. “You have a perfectly able engineer at your disposal, and you were about to freeze to death on your own?”

“I don’t think slapping my laptop until it works again quite qualifies you as an _engineer_ ,” She says mildly as Percy makes himself comfortable on her carpet. “Much less _perfectly able_.”

Percy doesn’t rise to the bait. His thick eyebrows pull together as he fiddles with the temperature control wheel, and Annabeth thinks once more about her dad’s advice, deciding on an amendment: if you can’t change your tyre, make sure you always have someone around you that can.

  
From the day she’s met him, Percy has been that man for her. He’s fixed her faucets and replaced her locks and drilled nails into her walls. It’s a funny feeling, taking the backseat, being his damsel in distress. Annabeth is far too much of a control freak to sit tight while someone else tampered with her wires- she’s been like this for as long as she can remember. It’s different with Percy, though.

There’s a calmness that comes with watching his long, slender fingers work, a consistency in how he is always there, ready to drop everything to resolve any minor issue she’s ever faced. It’s still a fresh feeling for Annabeth- the comfort of putting your trust in someone else. But her wall hangings have never fallen off and Percy has never given her a reason to doubt him.

Besides, he looks so _good_ when he’s successful- flushed cheeks and a triumphant grin. Confident. It’s a nice look on him; an appropriate look for someone as spectacular. There’s something about him in those moments, times when she thinks he might let the adrenaline rush of being right (something Annabeth is all too familiar with) will tip him over the edge and he’ll reach out, hold her face in his capable hands and kiss her like his life depends on it.

If she did, on occasion, loosen a bolt or tamper with the wiring just so she can spend some extra time with her helpful friend, just so she can see the victorious gleam in his eye when he’s done, in the hopes that it’ll inspire him to maybe seize something _else_ she thinks he might want- well. That’s really none of your business, is it?

It’s a funny coincidence, really- that Annabeth always seems to need him at the worst of times- like when the screws on her dishwasher miraculously came loose just when it was time for Percy to leave for the night. Or when he was giving an old girlfriend too much attention and her car just so _happened_ to give out, forcing him to bail on his date and spend the sweltering hot afternoon shirtless and bent over her bonnet.

The heater, however, is unlike her other problems- in that, it is _entirely_ nature’s doing. Annabeth knows Percy is great at the smaller jobs- replacing washers and de-clogging pipes- but the heater is a _real_ issue. The kind you have to call a handyman or a plumber to take a look at before you burn yourself or shock yourself into another dimension. She’s looked it up on the internet; there’s no easy fix for a radiator gone kaput.

Unfortunately for her, years of relying on Percy seems to have given him the self-assurance to tackle this- _very_ _real_ , very delicate problem- head on like he does everything else. It might have been endearing if Annabeth wasn’t terrified he’d press the wrong button or touch the wrong part and she’d have to rush him to the hospital with third degree burns.

“Percy, just let it go.” She says, pulling her jacket closer to her chest and knowing full well that arguing is futile. “I’ll call the landlord and he’ll have it fixed.”

“Annabeth,” Percy looks over at her. “When have I ever let you down? Just relax, this is easy. All you have to do is reset the-”

_Skrr-pop!_

There’s a flash of white light and when the puff of smoke clears, Percy is holding the ends of three very fried wires. He blinks down at it and then at her and raises his eyebrow.

“Okay so. You might need to have this professionally checked out.” He says. He clears his throat and sets down the wires, pointedly ignoring how her heater is now _smoking_. Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” Annabeth crosses her arms over her chest as Percy scrambles to his feet. He seems undeterred and sets his hands on his hips. looking around the room with the air of a king watching over his people. “Wish one of us had known this was a stupid idea.”

“Save the sarcasm for when your toaster doesn’t work because you forgot to plug it in.” Percy sticks his tongue out and Annabeth feels an overwhelming urge to reach over and catch him between her teeth. “Get packed and we can stay at my place. How much have you got done?”

If Annabeth was with anybody else, she might have felt some shame in her shortcomings- but this is Percy. He’s held her when she cried on the toilet floor over a boy who wasn’t worth it, and he’s watched her confidently walk into a glass door while coming out of a job interview. He’d had plenty of chances to be disappointed in her; it’s a little late now. She leads him to her room and shows him her empty suitcase. Percy studies her jumpers and she waits for him to tell her off.

“I hear that rolling your clothes is better if you want to pack more stuff in.” He says instead. “Here. I’ll pick out your outfits and you just put them in.”

They work in silence until Percy extracts a bra from her drawer delicately with two fingers.

“Oh, this is so _not_ your size. This could fit three of you in it.” He tells her, pressing it up against his chest. Annabeth picks up the closest thing to her- a turquoise hoodie- and tosses it at him. Percy drops her bra with a laugh and catches the hoodie mid-air.

“Are you going to hand me my clothes?” She calls and Percy lobs a pile of pants and bras at her before studying the hoodie again.

“This is mine.” He says.

“No, it’s mine.” Annabeth tells him as she stuffs the last of her clothes into her suitcase and shuts it. Her chest feels permanently contracted from the cold and her jaw is starting to ache from clenching it so hard. She looks over at Percy and he holds up the hoodie.

“It literally has my name on it.” He tells her. He’s not wrong- _Jackson_ is printed over the back in bold yellow lettering, along with the number _8_. “This is my basketball hoodie from high school.”

“It’s _mine_.” Annabeth insists. “And put it down I’m wearing it to the airport.”

Percy looks like he wants to say something- cheeky, if she’s going by the glint in his eye- but he drops it. Annabeth refuses to fight over that hoodie today. She needs it- needs it to remind her of home when she’s going so far away from him. On second thought- she pulls it on. Never too early to feel homesick, right?

Annabeth’s phone buzzes again and she reaches over her bed to get it, but Percy grabs it before she can reach.

“Who is it?” He asks, looking down at her screen. His smile only widens when he reads the text. “Oh my god. _Tom’s_ texting you? Tom like Tom from college who _totally_ had a crush on you?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “He didn’t have a crush on me. We just had a lot in common. We got along.”

“The only thing you both had in common was that you’re both obsessed with you.”

“We’re both from San Francisco.”

“Okay. Two things.” Percy allows. “Can I text him?”

  
He doesn’t wait for a response, already typing out something. Annabeth’s phone buzzes again in his hand as he does and his smile melts into a frown. Annabeth feels her heart beat faster, mentally already going over everyone she knows and trying to create a checklist to make sure they’re safe.

“What?” She asks.

“Um… it’s a PSA.” Percy says. “We’re on red alert.” He looks up at her. “We’re not allowed to leave our homes until further notice.”

He hands Annabeth’s phone back to her and she reads it to double check. Then once more for good measure. She gets a text to confirm that her flight has definitely been cancelled due to unforeseeable circumstances and her instinct is to calm down a little bit.

“Oh.” She says. Percy raises his eyebrows.

“We’re fucked.” He says. Then he considers it. “Okay. _You’re_ fucked. I’ll pull through.”

“Why, because you’re terrible company?” She asks.

“Because it’s you and me and this flat. And there’s no heating.” Percy points out. He holds his arm out and walks around the room, resting it over her shoulders. Annabeth curls into him, letting the warmth of his chest relax her for just one moment.

“How long do you think I can sponge off your body heat?” She asks.

Percy uses his free hand to lit her comforter off the bed and wraps it around the both of them as he leads her, still tucked firmly by his side, to her living room. They settle down on her couch and Annabeth snuggles as close to him as possible; for warmth and nothing else, of course.

“A while.” Percy says after a moment of contemplation. “As long as you need.”

He flicks through her TV absently and Annabeth gets a text from Tom. She reads his text and smacks Percy on the chest.

“You told him I wanted to _have his children_!?” She demands. “I can’t believe you.”

“Relax. He’s in California. You’re in Manhattan. You’re not having his babies any time soon.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s simply not true.” Percy says. He settles on a documentary on the Incan civilisation and Annabeth can tell he’s not paying attention. She reaches up, with a single finger, and runs it along the line of his jaw. She can feel some tension in there.

“What’s up, Jackson?” She asks.

“Just thinking.” He says. “Do you like him?”

“Who, Tom?” She waits and he nods. “Are you insane?”

“Good.”

He seems satisfied with her response. They watch TV for all of three minutes before he’s ready to chat again. It’s one of Annabeth’s favourite things about him- Percy can be so tightly clammed up when they’re around other people, but he always seems happy to chat to her. It makes her feel special, chosen somehow. Like the one flower in a field that a butterfly chooses to land on- over and over again.

“So I watched this documentary the other day,” He starts.

Annabeth rests her head against his shoulder, the bare skin of his forearm warm against her thighs while she listens to him speak. He’s describing a movie, she thinks- definitely _not_ a documentary- because two people have never been trapped in an underground vault and tasked with repopulating the earth in all of history, but she lets him go on. His voice is deep and makes his chest rumble under her palm and his hair is sticking up in a funny angle and Annabeth can listen to him talk for the rest of her life and never be bored.

“-and then they get rescued by their great grandchildren. It’s so weird.” He finishes and he looks at her nervously, worried, she thinks, that he might have talked for a while too long. Annabeth hums.

“Notice how the man never tried to fix the heating and then almost set their underground vault on fire?” She asks. A promise that she had been paying attention.

“Huh.” Percy considers it. “They _did_ almost freeze to death. Winter was not kind to them. He grew this beard that I _know_ you’d hate.”

“Guess it’s a good thing we’re going to die of the cold before I see you face the same fate then.”

Percy’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Annabeth notices the beginnings of a stubble along his jaw, extending down his neck and disappearing into his t-shirt. How long will she go, she wonders- loving him like this. Loving his voice and his excitement and the atmosphere around him. How long will she allowed him, like this. Loose. True.

She notices him lick his lips nervously and Annabeth’s heartbeat slows down. It’s the moment of truth- she can sense it in the air, see it in his shifty gaze and feel it in his sweaty palm that sits on her knee. She’d expected the anticipation to scare her, expected a quickening pulse and rushed words.

“If you were stuck in an underground bunker, -” Percy starts. His voice falters and Annabeth feels brave enough for the both of them.

“You.”

He looks doubtfully at her. “You didn’t wait for me to finish.”

There’s things she wants to say. Something about how she’d felt like a broken heater her whole life. Unable, no matter how hard she tried, to warm her home. Useless, unwanted, a problem to be dealt with at a time that would never come. Something about how Percy has always been Percy; no issue too small to fix, no setback too silly to overcome. She wants to say that he’s taught her to trust, helped her, one brick at a time, to build a home. She wants to tell him she likes when he believes stupid films and she likes when he texts Tom dumb messages that would definitely bite her in the ass at some point. There’s things Annabeth wants to say.

“I don’t need to. You.”

“I was asking-”

“If I had to be stuck for seventeen years with one person in the world,” Annabeth tells him calmly. She has never been sure of anything more than this moment. “I’d want it to be you.”

Percy is not surprised just as she is not afraid. The blizzard is like no other but moment is warm. The space between them, barely existent, is right. The time that stretches out ahead of them, endless. She watches his lips, almost blue from the cold, tug upwards slightly. He leans his head down until he can rest it against hers.

“You’re leaving out the repopulating the earth part.” He whispers.  
  


And if Annabeth finally kisses her best friend after that, it’s none of your business.


	3. life and other wonders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'It’s a wonderful life’ aww it sounds so cute babe sure we can watch it! *30 mins later* “YOU MONSTER”

Growing up in a magical summer camp full of children of ancient Greek gods is just like growing up anywhere else- if anywhere else could control the weather, was run by a half-man-half-horse and had a lava wall that could burn you alive. In fewer words, Annabeth Chase did not have what could be described as a normal life.

Camp Half Blood has their own traditions around the holiday time. The Hephaestus kids would decorate Thalia’s tree and the Stolls would sneak in some vodka and Annabeth’s job was making the perfect pumpkin spiced white Russians for after the less adventurous campers went to bed on Christmas Eve.

It’s easy for Annabeth to feel a little awkward- like a failure, a demigod, half-human, with so little connection to the mortal world that she’d never had a regular Christmas. But then she’d met Percy, and over the years, she’d learned to accept that she didn’t grow up with the same customs as her mortal peers, and things had gotten easier since. This year is new. She’s spending the holidays at Sally and Paul’s- far more _normal_ \- where she’d been merrily inducted into different traditions; traditions with tree shopping and eggnog and markets. Traditions that, she keeps having to remind herself, her boyfriend grew up with and thought were totally normal.

“What do you mean you’ve never watched It’s a Wonderful Life?” Percy cries and Annabeth feels her cheeks heat up under everyone’s gaze.

“ _No_.” She grumbles, shoving him off of her. Percy lets the momentum knock him over onto the other end of the couch and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“You hear that, Mom? She’s never watched the only movie anyone ever watches over the holidays.”

Sally lets out a laugh and exchanges a look with Paul. “Don’t be mean. Annabeth, do you want to watch it tonight?”

“Uh… is it a good film?” Annabeth feels kind of lame asking, but Sally gives her a warm smile. She has never let Annabeth feel like an alien. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, stands to learn a whole lot from his mother. He lets out a snort.

“Seventeen years, a life like _this_.” He says, getting up and flicking through their movie collection. “Unacceptable.”

“It’s a lovely movie.” Paul says, taking a sip of his mulled wine. Then he frowns. “Although…”

“What?” Percy asks over his shoulder a she loads his DVD into the player. Paul hesitates.

“Are you sure you want _Annabeth_ watching it?” He asks and Annabeth doesn’t appreciate the tone he takes. She catches Paul look warily at Sally and has to resist the urge to cross her arms over her chest and frown at them.

“What’s wrong with me watching it?” She demands as politely as you can when you’re talking to your boyfriend’s parents who have been kind enough to welcome you into their home for the holidays.

“Oh, it’s nothing, honey, just that it’s a little… it’s a bit of a tear jerk-” Sally starts but Percy curs her off.

“Oh. Don’t mind them.” He says, rolling his eyes at his parents. “They’re being silly. It’s the funniest movie ever made. You’ll love it.”

Before Annabeth has the time to push her for what _that_ could possibly mean, Percy drops ungracefully back on the couch beside her. His eyes gleam and his grin makes her stomach twist. She narrows her eyes at him.

“It’s funny?”

“Yep. Funny, uplifting, heart-warming- just your average Christmas movie.” He says and she feels his arm snake over her shoulders. He tugs her closer to his chest and she wriggles out from under him.

“Why are you guys being so weird?”

“Shh… movie’s starting.” Percy ignores her struggles and yanks her right back into his side. “Stay close.” He whispers into her hair.

Annabeth isn’t good at focusing on many things at a time. She’s barely good at focusing on _one_ thing at a time. So when she notices him pulling out his phone and updating his Instagram story with what they’re up to, she can barely pay any mind to it. Already, she’s taken in by George Bailey and his general state of mind.

Some part of Annabeth is aware of Percy taking not-so-subtle photos of her in the dim light, aware of Sally and Paul sneaking glances over at her like she’s a bomb they’re waiting to go off, but most of her attention is on the angel and his obsession with Mark Twain.

“Hey,” Percy says, nudging her gently. Annabeth looks up at him and realises that at some point she’d cuddled right into him, her legs lying over his lap and her head pressed into his shoulder. He kisses her temple. “I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”

“Sure.” Annabeth says. It’s the atmosphere. Nothing like the freezing cold winter and the holidays to remind you to be grateful for the people you have in your life, right? She leans up and presses her lips to his jaw. “I love you.”

“Okay. Now say cheese.” Percy holds up his camera and snaps a photo before Annabeth can make sense of it. He studies his screen, and the fact that he doesn’t immediately call Annabeth an ugly troll and toss her out into the streets after looking at that horrific picture of her- half-closed eyes, wonky smile and all- is perhaps the most convincing way he’s ever told her he loves her.

“Percy, don’t _post_ that-!” Annabeth makes to grab his phone but he yanks it out of her reach.

“Annabeth you’re being rude. Just focus on the film I need to know how you react.”

“It seems like a nice movie.” She hisses at him when she realises she’s probably disturbing Sally and Paul, too.

After that, things happen very quickly, and she realises somewhere between saving his brother and dancing with Mary that the movie was _not_ a feel-good film at all. She can feel Percy’s chest shake with laughter under her cheek and feels hot tears prickling at her eyes. He’s _recording her crying_ , the little fucker. She buries her face in his sweater, unable to bear the film.

“I was afraid you’d be upset.” Sally coos and Annabeth refuses to look up from Percy’s chest.

It’s stupid, because Sally’s seen her at her worst, on this very floor and sobbing like the world was ending; only a year ago, when she thought she’d lost Percy for good. How many nights had Sally combed her hair and Paul handed her tissues while she cried herself hoarse? A couple of tears shed because of a film shouldn’t have been embarrassing.

Still, Annabeth can’t help but feel a little bit like maybe she’s letting these lovely people around her down. They’d invited her into their home, a supposed hero- and all Sally and Paul had ever seen her do was cry. Some hero she is, she thinks. Her instinctive reaction to things not going her way- a missing boyfriend, a surprisingly miserable movie- is to burst into tears. She wonders if this is just who she is. Percy Jackson’s sidekick, a one-time wonder, a failure. She curls up into her boyfriend.

“You’ll get through it, champ.” Percy says against her head and Annabeth only slightly resents the humour in his tone. She looks at Percy, soft gaze and lazy smile, and it’s impossible to be upset around him. “We’re not even half an hour in. It’s going to get worse.”

“You’re _enjoying_ my pain?” She wails. “I don’t want to watch anymore.”

“Oh yeah. I love watching you cry. So does everyone on my Instagram. They’re going to need updates.” Percy says cheerily. “Maybe I should livestream this.”

“You’re a _monster_.”

“Don’t worry, Annabeth. Nobody gets through this with a dry eye. Percy’s moment will come too.” Paul chuckles.

To his credit, Percy _does_ compromise. He lets her use him as a pillow, a blanket and a pack of tissues, all at once. In return, he posts video after video of her breaking down over a stupid movie that she never even wanted to watch in the first place.

Annabeth thinks she managed to hold it together fairly well. Percy’s followers might disagree, but they don’t know just how many tears she had to fight through it. She’s pretty proud of how little content she’s giving Percy (relative to how much she might have bawled if he _wasn’t_ filming)- all the way until _no man is a failure who has friends_.

There’s no logical explanation as to why her throat closes up at that, no way to articulate how she hears the word _friend_ and thinks immediately of Percy, no reason as to why a stupid line from a dumb movie makes her want to curl up into her boyfriend and hold him like this, close to her heart for the rest of her life. She chokes back a sob and takes a breath to steady herself, but Percy is already dropping his phone, jokes and teasing forgotten, and gathering all of her into his arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling her onto his lap and resting his forehead against hers. Annabeth keeps her eyes closed, trying to compose herself, but the dumb angel’s words repeat over and over in her mind like a chant and it becomes increasingly more difficult to calm down. She feels Percy’s hands on either side of her face, his fingers reaching into her hair, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks, feels his pulse on her skin, and tries to focus on that.

“Yeah.” Her voice comes out funny, like she’s being strangled, and maybe she is.

“I’ve got you.” He tells her. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Right here.”

She’s got a friend, she thinks once more. She’s got a friend, a boyfriend, a soulmate, a great love and a partner- all wrapped up and neatly packaged in the form of the cutest boy she’s ever known. Already, fears of failure are starting to fade. She’s got a friend, she thinks a last time. And that’s why she’ll never fail. And that’s why she’ll be okay.


	4. mama knows best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> was this inspired by santa tell me last minute? yes. welcome to the trainwreck  
> Prompts:  
> Holiday party where they have to get all dressed up or alternatively, they have an ugly holiday sweaters competition +  
> Tree decorating (bonus points if one of them is doing it completely wrong omg why am i in love with you) + My mom knitted you a sweater for Christmas

Name one thing more embarrassing than your mother blatantly trying to set you up with her neighbour. Percy can wait. No, really- he’d quite rather wait for you to come up with an answer, really, than walk down the hall to apartment 12E on the twenty second night of December to give his mom’s pretty neighbour a  _ handmade sweater _ .

“Do you even know this girl?” He groans as his mom fusses over his hair.

“Of  _ course _ I do.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing. “I’m not about to knit a girl I don’t know a sweater.”

“Okay tell me one thing about her.” Percy challenges.

“Her name is Annabeth, she’s almost always running late for work and she- much like me- would not be impressed with you if your hair won’t just stay  _ down _ .” His mom frowns and licks her finger before running it through his hair. “Besides, you haven’t even tried to date anyone since Rachel. This will be good for you.”

“So you know her name and that she has a job.” Percy concludes, ignoring the unwarranted jab at his admittedly pathetic love life. “Why does it feel more and more like you’ve just been stealing her mail?”

“I know her, Percy.” His mom rolls her eyes. “And I know  _ you _ . There’s no way I can get you to go over there if I tell you anything more. Have we got any hair gel? Paul!” She calls over her shoulder. “Have we any hair gel?”

“I’m not going over and telling her my  _ mom _ thinks we should date.” Percy announces just as Paul brings his mom a tub of hair gel.

“Oh, good.  _ Please _ don’t open with that.” His mom hums as she focuses solely on fixing him up. “She’s well-spoken and  _ so _ pretty, Percy. Just give her a chance.”

So she’s got a name that only a parent who hates their child would name them, a job that she’s suspiciously not been fired from and she’s pretty. Going by what he knows about the girl, she seems less and less likely to actually exist. Percy unfolds the green sweater that sits on his lap.

“What is she, Tinkerbell? I couldn’t fit a finger into this thing.”

“Don’t make fun of her. She’s  _ petite _ .”

“No,  _ you’re _ petite. She’s  _ miniscule _ . If she’s even real, she’s microscopic.” Percy complains as his mother smoothens out his sweater. “What if she opens the door and I can’t see her? Oh my god. What if I step on her?”

His mom smacks him lightly on the chest. “My last tip for you: don’t say that to her face.”

“Her  _ pretty _ face.” Percy teases, letting her crowd him out of their little apartment.

“ _Meet_ _her_ , Percy. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“Is that a challenge?”

His mom doesn’t grace him with a response, slamming the door in his face. He looks down the hallway and sighs. Might as well, right? It’s not like he can go back home with this stupid doll sweater in his hands. It’s seventeen and a half steps to her front door- he counts- and when he gets closer he hears chatter and music on the other side.  _ Fantastic _ , he thinks as he stares at her dark wood door. He gets to be set up- by his  _ mom _ \- with a girl in front of all her friends.  _ Super _ .

There’s a long wait between when he rings the bell and she answers, but dear lord if she doesn’t make it worth the wait. She’s larger than the pixie from Peter Pan, which is a relief, and she’s blonde and large-eyed and Percy can almost feel his mom smirking at him from her apartment seventeen and a half steps away.

“Sweater?” He asks her lamely. She raises a brow.

“Is that Clarisse and Chris with the tree?” A man’s voice calls from behind her and she ignores it, choosing instead to lean against her doorframe. A hint of a smile plays on her lips, too smug for her own good, and Percy has half a mind to kiss it off of her.

“Are you asking me?” Her voice is like velvet and it’s impossible to concentrate on any one part of her. Percy holds up the sweater in his hand, unfurled and crumpled in his death grip and she reaches to take it. For a moment her finger brushes over his wrist, sending a shock up his arm and forcefully knocking his brain into action.

“Um, yeah.” He mumbles, letting go as she somewhat forcefully plucks it out of his hands.

“Tell Sally I said thank you.” She smiles, pressing it up to her cheek and closing her eyes.

“Sure. Uh… I’ll leave you to it, then.” Percy says, nodding at her and she frowns.

“You should come in.” She says. “We’re having a Christmas sweater party and you seem dressed for it. Besides,” He doesn’t miss how her cheeks flush. “Plus, you could see me in this.”

She waves the sweater in the air and doesn’t wait for a response, stomping off into the flat and leaving Percy no choice but to follow her. There’s a fair few people inside already, decked out in sweaters, surrounded by ornaments and with glasses of wine in hand. The only thing noticeably missing from the party- a tree. The furniture had been pushed over, leaving a gaping hole where Percy assumes a tree might have gone if it existed.

“This is Percy.” She announces, and he doesn’t remember introducing himself. “He’s Sally’s son.” She says it pointedly and exchanges a look with one of the girls sitting on the ground and playing absently with a string of lights.

“ _ Oh _ .” She says slowly, and whatever she and Annabeth are silently communicating melts off her face, quickly replaced by a bright smile. “Hi Percy. I’m Silena. This is Charles.”

“How are you doing?” The guy sitting with his legs around Silena grins at Percy.

There’re others there, too-two brothers and a couple of other girls and Annabeth pulls her sweater over her tank top and shows it off.

“Cute, huh?” She asks and Percy isn’t sure what she means, so he does the smart thing and nods weakly.

Silena pours him a glass of cheap wine and he sits down beside Annabeth on the couch, trying his hardest not to stick out too much. All her friends are people she’s known for years, he finds out- and she only knows Percy as well as his mom can describe him. His mom, who has never said one nasty thing about him, he reminds himself- which  _ would _ be a lot more comforting if he could be sure she hadn’t also told Annabeth embarrassing stories of Percy as a baby. Even if she is aware, Annabeth is nice enough not to bring it up.

“So, you’re a vet technician?” Annabeth asks him when Silena and Travis get into a massive argument, splitting the group in half. Percy is half way through sipping his wine and nods with some sense of panic, neither wanting to appear rude nor choke on his drink. Annabeth lets out a laugh under her breath. “Take your time. What is it a vet tech does?”

“Mostly I wait around for the dogs and cats to take a shit.” He tells her. She beams, seemingly delighted.

“Sounds fun.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” He tells her and she shakes her head, taking a sip of her wine. “What do you do?”

“Sally didn’t tell you?” She asks. Then her eyes widened and she turned bright pink. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Don’t laugh at me.” Her cheeks get almost concerningly red. “But… I thought your mom was trying to set us up. Obviously not, though. I think she just really likes talking about you.”

Oh, she’s definitely trying to set us up, Percy thinks. But since there’s no respectable way to say that, he chooses to laugh it off.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I keep telling her to be more interesting,” He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I suppose I am the most interesting thing to happen to people around me. It’s a tough life.”

“Sounds it.” Annabeth laughs. “It’s sweet that she likes you so much.”

“It’s almost impossible not to.” Percy tells her matter-of-factly and she’s just about to respond when the door swings open to reveal the bottom of a Christmas tree and a pair of legs.

“I should go sign for that.” She tells him somewhat apologetically before getting to her feet and barking instructions at her friends as to how to position the tree.  _ Bossy _ , Percy thinks as he watches her. She pulls on the sleeves of her sweater and she looks so cosy in it.  _ Cute _ .

Eventually the tree is erected and introductions are made and Annabeth is once more by Percy’s side, and the air smells like cinnamon and nutmeg again. She nudges him with her shoulder.

“You should paint one of those ornaments.” She says, nodding to the ones scattered on the floor. “Everyone’s got one, and then next year you’ll have your own to put on the tree.”

Next year, Percy thinks almost giddily. He raises an eyebrow. “Next year?”

Annabeth, who’d only just managed to work her way back to her original colour blushes again. “Fine. Don’t. I don’t care.”

She scoots as far away from him as her apartment will allow and demands everyone help her decorate her tree. Her friends don’t complain like Percy’s might have- he suspects they’ve grown used to her authoritarianism.

“Ornaments first.” Annabeth calls over the chatter of her friends hanging up baubles around the tree. Percy refuses to move and she catches his eye before marching over. She folds her arms over her chest. “Either personalise the ornament, or decorate the tree, Percy. Don’t just stand there.”

“I’m not signing onto this.” He tells her flatly. “The lights go on first.”

“That might be what they taught you at pooper-scooper school,” She says, voice low. “But here we do it like civilised people do. Ornaments first.”

“Your lights are going to get tangled up in them.”

“Oh no.” Annabeth deadpans. “If only I had help if I were to run into a problem. It’s not like I don’t have seven pairs of hands at the ready.”

“This is a  _ stupid _ decoration strategy.” Percy tells her and she glares at him.

“ _ You’re _ a stupid decoration strategy.”

“Clever.” Percy sticks his tongue out at her and she takes a step closer to him. She tries to stare him down, a full head and some shorter than him.  _ Cute _ , he thinks again. Percy wants to hold her face in his hands and kiss her on her bossy little mouth.

“Are you guys done?” Silena calls and Percy looks up with a start. He can  _ swear _ he and Annabeth only stood there, holding each other’s gaze for half a second, but her friends had somehow miraculously finished putting up all the ornaments. Annabeth looks just as surprised as he feels, and steps away from him. Silena smiles knowingly and Percy doesn’t like that expression on her. “Help out with the lights?”

“Shut up.” Annabeth mumbles, bending over and picking up a glittery glass bulb and a Sharpie. She shoves them in Percy’s hands. “Sign this and stick it on.”

Percy meets Silena’s eye and she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders like she’s saying,  _ what can you do? _ Percy blinks back, unable to tell if he’s endeared by Annabeth’s dictatorial tendencies because he totally wants to kiss her or because it’s all just a part of her charm anymore.

“It’s easier to just do as she says.” Charles mutters under his breath as he walks past Percy. “She’s a bit of a brat.”

“I heard that.” Annabeth snaps and Charles grins devilishly back at her.

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, Stalin?” He calls and Annabeth narrows her eyes at him, but he remains completely unbothered. “Don’t worry, Percy. She’s all bark, no bite.”

“Whatever. Just pass me the lights.” Annabeth grumbles.

Within seconds the lights are tangled up in the ornaments and Percy finds the courage to walk up beside Annabeth. He stands quietly as she works to free her glittery ball signed  _ L.C. _ from the wires until he can’t bear it anymore. He reaches forward and she slaps his hand away.

“I don’t want to hear one word from you.” She says through gritted teeth and Percy’s pretty sure he’s in love with her. “And I  _ definitely _ don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Percy laughs and sees her shoulders relax. “I never got to thank you for having me over.”

“Oh, the pleasure is  _ all _ hers.” Silena sings from beside them and Annabeth glares at her.

Percy has to fight back a smile when he realises Annabeth’s cheeks are reddening for the hundredth time this evening. There is a possibility, judging by the gleeful expression on Silena’s face and Annabeth’s refusal to meet his eye, that she might actually want to kiss him just a little bit, too. He licks his lips and steps closer to her and doesn’t miss the way her shoulders tense slightly. Oh. She  _ totally _ likes him.

“It’s nice to have you.” She says, her voice two notes too high.

“Who’s L.C.?” Percy asks as he tries to compose himself. He can feel Silena’s gaze on them, can tell she’s trying not to laugh despite having known her only an hour and a half.

“Family.” Annabeth says, voice far away. She doesn’t elaborate and there’s a reason, he thinks, that she’s celebrating Christmas in a flat with her friends. She manages to pull the lights loose and drops it, lost in thought.

Percy is happy to pick it up, and helps Silena, Clarisse and Katie finish up the tree while Annabeth sits back down with Charles and downs her wine. Percy chats to Clarisse, who he’s pretty sure does  _ not _ like him, and feels acutely aware of Annabeth’s posture and movements.

“Ugh. Just ask her out. Or chicken out, I don’t know.” Clarisse says, cutting herself off mid rant about something Percy didn’t care enough to pay attention to. “Just. Stop making googly eyes at her.”

“She’s single, right?”

“Has been since Luke  _ fucking _ Castellan.” Clarisse tells him gruffly, as if he’s supposed to know who that is. Just before he’s about to ask, the initials L.C. float to mind.

“And I’ve been single since Rachel  _ fucking _ Dare.” He mimics, and Clarisse remains unimpressed.

“I don’t care.” She says flatly. “Treat her well or I’ll break your legs.”

“She hasn’t even said yes- I haven’t even asked her out yet.”

“She hasn’t stopped giggling since you came in.” Clarisse tells him. “I think you’re good.”

He finds Annabeth in the kitchen, holding a polaroid camera in one hand and a stack of photos in the other. She looks up when she hears him coming and smiles.

“This is short notice,” She says quietly. “And a big commitment, but I need you to tell me if you’ll be here next year.”

“I’ve known you two hours.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Percy doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t. Annabeth slips him a photo of a group of friends. He only recognises Annabeth in it, a fair few years younger and a blonde boy’s arm around her shoulders. It’s a Christmas sweater party- much like the one they’re in right now. She looks happy, he thinks. Happy and in love.

“Who are these people?”

“They aren’t here anymore.” Annabeth says. “So, you’re going to have to make a decision. Are you one of them,” She nods to the photo in his hand. “Or one of them?” She looks over at her friends, laughing over something Clarisse said. “Because I’m not strong enough for another…”

“Luke.” Percy finishes for her. She nods miserably, not surprised by his powers of deduction. He shrugs. “It’s hard to get back out there, huh?”

“Kind of.” She allows, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater. Green is a fabulous colour on her.

“Yeah. Me too.” Percy says. “I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Annabeth admits.

“I’m stoked to be here now, though.” He nudges her shoulder and she looks up at him.

Her face so close to his, he sees more of her than should be humanly possible. Her eyes are grey, he realises. He’d thought they were blue. She has freckles on her nose in the middle of winter. There’s a scar over her eyebrow, so faint he has to squint to be sure. She bites her lip nervously and regards him with excitement and so many things about her just don’t add up the way he expects. Percy can’t tell if it’s the wine or his proximity to her that’s making him so dizzy.

“I suppose it would be a shame then,” Annabeth says quietly. “If I didn’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here right now.”

Her face seems suddenly even closer to him than he remembers. Percy’s gaze falls to her lips, wine-stained and bright pink. Her breath is warm against his skin.

“It would.” He agrees and Annabeth doesn’t waste another second to close the gap between them. She kisses him softly, and he feels her hands snake around his neck, her fingers in his gelled hair. Percy pulls her closer to him, ducks his head and kisses her until his muscles ache.

“Not to interrupt,” A voice says and Percy feels like he’s been caught selling contraband candy in middle school again. He springs as far away from Annabeth as his legs will allow and Silena stands by the island, looking between the two of them with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile. “We should take the photo before Connor gets  _ drunk _ -drunk and ruins it.”

Percy walks out with burning cheeks and pretends not to hear Annabeth and Silena giggle in a hushed whisper behind him. Annabeth sets up the polaroid and directs everyone to their places before taking hers beside Percy. The camera counts down and she presses her face into his shoulder.

“You should kiss me again.” She says. “I think I’d like the memory.”

Percy doesn’t need any more encouragement. He’s only a little embarrassed by the desperation with which he grabs her, pulling her flush against him and kissing her like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. And maybe it is, too, because he’s so completely consumed by the taste of her, by her presence and her kiss and her perfume- that they don’t notice the flash of the camera or the fact that the photo’s printed and halfway developed by the time they finally pull away.

“Anything we can get for you?” Chris asks with a grin, not seeming particularly uncomfortable when the world comes back into focus. “Lip balm? Some air?”

“Shut up, Rodriguez.” Annabeth grumbles, but her hand still sits on Percy’s chest and it’s all he can ask for.

Annabeth fixes the new photograph on her tree topper and Percy doesn’t remember the last time he’d looked so happy. He lets her get on his shoulders, the little pixie, so she can stick the topper on the tree and Silena turns it on. It’s a nice moment, Percy thinks- friends, all drunk and watching a tree made of pure love- and he kind of hopes he’ll be around for the next year. (He will. The next year, and he next, and the one after that, too- but he doesn’t quite know that yet.)

Percy only gets home the next morning, his sweater on inside out and his gelled hair sticking up in all the worst ways, and his mom catches him as the door clicks shut behind him. She sips her coffee and he really doesn’t like the look on her face.

“Took you a while to deliver that sweater, huh?” She asks him and Percy sits down at the table with her.

“It’s a long process. There’s a whole… procedure.” He gestures his hand vaguely. “I take my job  _ very _ seriously.”

“Must have been one hell of a delivery.” His mom says. Percy sighs.

“One hell of a girl, too.”


	5. humourific arts

Zero.

That’s how many times Annabeth has ever made her fiancé laugh the way Rachel is doing right now in the entire twelve years she’s known him. It’s not that Annabeth is uptight, high-strung or tightly wound (shut up, Travis); she has a sense of humour, she _swears_. She’s just not a funny person. All her friends are over to celebrate the night before Christmas, as they usually are, and she finds herself chatting to the only person that might have any insight at all.

“What is it that makes me so sombre all the time?”

“Some might say you’re too intense to be funny.” Travis nudges her on the shoulder when he sits down beside her and she scowls at him. He isn’t intimidated by her; not many of her friends are. “If you want to be hilarious like me, maybe start by losing the glare.”

He points between her eyes and Annabeth slumps back. She can hear Travis’s laugh in his ribs before his arm snakes around her shoulder. He lets her lean her head on him and sips on his beer.

“I can be funny, right? Remember that one time I said how we should be called Camp Half _Dead_ because we were exhausted from battle and dead on our feet and everyone laughed?”

Travis frowns down at her. “Oh, _that’s_ what you meant by that?”

“What else could it possibly have meant?”

“That half of us were, you know- dead.” Travis says and Annabeth swears her heart falls to her toes.

“What? Why would I have ever made a joke about _that_ -” She falters. “Wait, _that’s_ what everyone thought I meant? That’s _horrible_.”

Travis looks around the party helplessly, but nobody is coming to his rescue. Annabeth sees him swallow thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with guilt before he clears his throat. He’s not going to dwell on the Titan war and Annabeth isn’t particularly keen on it either.

“The only thing more pathetic than knowing exactly when the last time a joke you made landed was- is that it’s been eight years and it was misunderstood.”

“I’m bland.” Annabeth decides, allowing herself a moment of self-pity. “I’m bland and boring and I’m engaged to the funniest man on the planet and one day, the magic’s going to wear off and he’ll realise he deserves a Rachel or a Travis because you guys make jokes and play pranks on each other and that’s far more fun than being married to me.”

“This feels like a deeper issue.” Travis tells her, rubbing his free hand up her arm. “But if it bothers you that much, you should just, you know. Play a prank on him.”

“I’m the wrong person for a prank.” Annabeth says miserably. “Remember when I tried to get you back and you didn’t even notice?”

“Because turning my sheets inside out is the lamest prank I have _ever_ heard of.”

“It was subtle.”

“It was stupid.” Travis looks at her pointedly and he’s got her there. “I can’t believe my biggest prank nemesis, my most worthy opponent- is going to marry you, the single worst prankster in all of history.”

“I _know_.” Annabeth whines. “And every single year, Percy does the most annoying thing where he booby-traps the Christmas presents and every _single_ year I fall for it and sometimes I wish I could get him back for it while also proving that I too can be hilarious and unpredictable like he is, you know?”

Travis grins and she knows she’s waded into dangerous territory. There’s that glint in his eye and teeth in his smile and it’s nothing but trouble. She’s seen this exact expression on Travis a hundred times growing up, and it was almost immediately followed up with Chiron putting them on toilet cleaning duties for months together. Her stomach twists.

“I don’t like that look.”

“You know what your problem is?” Travis asks. Annabeth pulls away from him and raises her brows expectantly. “You’re too clever.”

“That’s a problem now?”

“Yeah. Because pranks and booby traps are _stupid_.” Travis says. “It’s not about subtlety and class; it’s instant gratification and seeing someone be silly for, like, one second. You’re way too smart for them. Which is why,”

He points to the calendar that hangs on their wall. “It’s Christmas Eve?” Annabeth asks.

“Exactly. Which means all those beautifully wrapped presents under your tree are still untampered with and safe.”

“ _Oh_.” Annabeth feels a smile growing as she connects the dots. It’s funny, she supposes, if not a little bit nasty- but if Travis thinks Percy would appreciate it, “I should totally open our gifts before tomorrow. That would be hilarious.”

Travis frowns at her and narrows his eyes. “No,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child. “You should get out ahead of him and booby trap the presents before he does.”

That’s far smarter. A prank Percy is _guaranteed_ to enjoy.

“Oh.” She says. “Yeah. That’s going to be so much funnier.”

“I cannot believe how bad you are at this.” Travis says flatly. “Do you want my h-?”

“Yes.” Annabeth says. “Desperately. I don’t know the first thing about setting a booby trap.”

“I can’t believe you got Arachne to weave her own trap and then fall into it.” Travis mutters under his breath, hopping off his barstool and helping Annabeth off. “And you thought opening presents early was genius.”

Their movement attracts some attention. Percy catches Annabeth’s eye from his place on the couch and his face breaks into a massive smile that makes her heart flutter. How long till that effect wears off, she wonders. When Percy’s scrunched up nose doesn’t make her knees weak and his voice doesn’t bring tears to her eyes. She’s known him half her life, and not a day goes by when she can look him in the eye without feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion. He raises his bottle towards her, and pretends to tip an imaginary hat in her direction and Annabeth feels instantly lighter. Surely, she thinks, if she can never get tired of him- he is the same way about her?

“Alright, Princess.” Travis says, leading her to the kitchen and inspecting their condiments. “Your job is easy. Just keep your boyfriend distracted and I’ll set it up. I’ll need some string, a pack of cards and two candles. Wait- throw in a hammer and a hardbound book.”

“What are you going to do?” Annabeth asks wearily. Travis looks over his shoulder, as if they aren’t the only ones in the kitchen.

“Percy’s going to try to set his trap after we leave, right?” He asks and Annabeth nods. “So you’d imagine he’s kneeling down, playing around with the presents- so when he moves a specific one, I’m thinking the large box there-” he points before launching into great detail all of what’s going to happen to the candles, the book, the hammer, and the stack of cards. “-and then it’ll catapult this pie through the kitchen, across the living room and right at his face.”

Annabeth make a face. “I don’t know. Our floors are carpeted and cleaning cream off of it’s going to be such a chore.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Percy’s good at cleaning up.” Travis says. “He had to empty out four tonnes of literal bull shit from the Poseidon cabin once and he did it with a smile on his face.”

“He _does_?” Annabeth asks. Percy has never once so much as wiped down the bathroom mirror with a smile on his face. If she can get him to do a single cleaning chore without complaints- that would be the real Christmas miracle. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” Travis says sarcastically. “You know what you have to do?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Do you know how sexist it is to sic the girl on distraction duty?” She lets out a dramatic sigh when he doesn’t respond. “Fine. I’ll go shake some ass or whatever.”

Travis grins and slaps her ass lightly as she walks over. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Annabeth has been on life-threatening quests before. She’s single-handedly defeated her mother’s greatest nemesis and brought down ancient Roman structures and she is a saviour of the gods. _Nothing_ has made her heart race more than walking up to her fiancé and climbing into his lap while on an undercover mission for _Travis fucking Stoll_.

Percy, to his credit, is not surprised. His arm wraps around her waist to steady her as easily as he sips his beer and continues to talk to Rachel about her holiday in Turks and Caicos. Distraction, it turns out, is just a lot of anxiety while rubbing circles on your boyfriend’s back while he chats to friends. Easy peasy, right?

Annabeth is acutely aware of Travis ducking in and out of the room, but Percy seems to pay him no mind. The rest of their friends are chatting and Christmas music plays in the background and its busy enough that Travis is virtually invisible to everyone else. Finally, after what seems like ages but only lasts as long as Annabeth’s wine does, Travis’s head pokes out from the island kitchen and he shoots her a triumphant grin accompanied by a thumbs up, and Annabeth can breathe easy again.

“Oh my god, I know I shouldn’t do this, but I got you some Bambarra rum.” Rachel says. “That’s your present.” She nods to the pile. “And I really think you’d like it and I would love to watch you try it.”

“Oh, Rach.” Percy whines before looking up at Annabeth like _, are you hearing this_? “Okay. I’m just going to open it now.”

Maybe Annabeth’s a little stupid for not instantly putting two and two together, but it’s only when he bounces his knee, silently asking for her to get up so he can grab his present that she realises that he can’t do that. Not unless he wants a face full of pie.

“No!” She cries, jumping to her feet. Percy freezes, leaned forward and so close to getting up, and blinks at her. Rachel raises an eyebrow and Annabeth gestures wildly. “You can’t. You can’t open presents before Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, babe. I think we’re good.” Percy says, patting her on the hip and nudging her to the side and standing up. Annabeth holds his shoulders and shoves him back into the couch, his weight pulling the both of them back. She knees Rachel in the jaw and Rachel lets out an ‘eugh!’

“What’s going on?” Percy asks.

“You can’t open that present.” Annabeth insists and Percy and Rachel share a smile like they can’t believe how dramatic she’s being.

“How many have you had to drink, sweetheart?” Percy asks, pressing a kiss to her temple. She can hear the laugh in his voice and has half a mind to let him get pied in the face just for that comment. She nuzzles into his neck and reaches out, grabbing Rachel by the neck and pulling her in.

“We just haven’t hung out, the three of us, in ages, and I don’t know why, and I _miss_ us.” She complains, doing her best drunk Annabeth impression. Rachel presses a kiss to her cheek and grins.

“Hang in there, babe.” She says, untangling herself easily from Annabeth. “Let me find that rum and we’ll be where you are, too.”

Before Annabeth can stop her, she reaches out, kicking the large green box aside as she wades through to her present and Annabeth springs to her feet. If only she’d been paying attention to exactly what would happen- she might have been able to stop the stupid booby trap. She looks around and spots Travis, who’s eyes are wide and staring at her in panic. He gestures for her to get out of the way, but there’s no way Annabeth’s letting Rachel get _pied in the face_ at a Christmas Eve party. She stands staunchly between Rachel and the kitchen, hoping she’s within pie trajectory and glares at Travis. Her partner in crime tries to reach her, possibly to push her out of harm’s way as she takes her heroic stand, but he gets caught behind Clarisse and Chris, who are making out obnoxiously under the mistletoe.

“The book! Annabeth, the _book_!” He calls and before she can make sense of what that could mean, she feels a sudden weight smack her in the back of her head before the world goes dark.

When her eyes are ready to open once more, Annabeth finds that she is somehow on the carpeted floor of her living room and staring up into Percy’s nostrils as he glares daggers at someone. He looks back down and makes sounds that don’t fully make sense for a moment.

“-understand what I’m saying?”

“Huh?” Annabeth asks.

“What’s your name?” Percy enunciates his words loud and clear and completely unlike himself.

“You don’t know my name?” Annabeth tries not to feel hurt, but it’s difficult when she’s been his best friend for twelve years. Percy sighs and she gets the feeling she’s meant to answer. “Annabeth. Annabeth Chase.”

“I think she’s fine.” Percy sighs, and she realises that her head is in his lap. He bends over and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and presses his forehead against hers. “How do you feel, Wise Girl?” He asks softly and Annabeth can feel the quickened pulse in his wrist where it presses over her stomach.

“What happened?” She asks, letting her eyes flutter close. Percy’s fingers comb through her hair gently.

“That _fuckhead_ Travis’s genius prank backfired.” Percy says flatly. So typical of Travis to snitch on her the second things got tough, Annabeth thinks. “The book was meant to slide down across the flat and act as the load for your catapult- and I can think of seven reasons that’s idiotic, and that’s right off the top of my head.”

“Kinda silly, huh?” Annabeth asks, pulling her knees up and curling into Percy.

The rest of their party’s probably staring at them, and she doesn’t really feel like facing the embarrassment yet. She can feel Percy gesturing for them to carry on, give them a moment, and the tension around them eases almost instantly. Chatter starts to pick up and Percy pulls her closer.

“Not silly.” He tells her. “Kind of epic, if it hadn’t knocked the love of my life out.”

Annabeth lifts her head up just enough so she can check if he’s joking. His face betrays nothing.

“You’re lying.”

“I appreciate the effort.” Percy laughs. “I think it’s sweet that you were trying to out master me, but you’re an amateur at best. A near stranger to the art of booby traps.”

“I’m just so bad at this.” Annabeth cries, her cheeks heating up. “I wish I was funny. Like you are.”

All the humour leaves Percy’s face when he realises she’s being serious. He presses a hand to her cheek and holds her gaze, searching her carefully with brilliant eyes. Annabeth tries to look anywhere but directly at him, hoping he’d just drop it. As per usual, her efforts are useless.

“So you aren’t the most hilarious person I know.” Percy says, which seems like the start of the world’s nastiest pep talk. “Your pranks stink, you keep referencing that Camp Half Dead joke you made and it wasn’t even funny for the reasons you thought it was, and you reuse the same knock knock joke and it’s never landed. Seriously, Annabeth? ‘It’s Grandma, let me in’? That’s the lamest joke I’ve heard.”

“Is there a point to this?” Annabeth asks, burying herself further into his lap.

“I like you the way you are.” Percy tells her. “You’re smart as a whip and tough as nails and you’re so incredibly interesting and I love talking to you. Plus, I’d be _so_ pissed if being funny was another thing you were better than me at.”

Annabeth doesn’t mean to smile, really, she pushes it down until she can’t anymore. It might not be the kind of validation she was looking for her, but she thinks it’s better. It’s the truth; and the truth is that Percy isn’t going to leave her for all that she isn’t. It’s a funny feeling, the butterflies in her stomach when she looks at a man she’s known for as long as she can remember. She sees the beginnings of a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye and Annabeth is twelve years old, fighting for her life by his side and every bit of hurt that brought her to this moment is worth it.

“Besides,” Percy says, helping her up to a sitting position. He gets to his feet and then holds his hand out to her, pulling her up right behind him. He laces his fingers through hers and leads her through the living room. “If you want to know what a good prank is, you should come to me, the reigning Prank King.”

They slow to a stop and his arm wraps around her waist once more, before he pulls her flush against his chest. “The important thing to remember, is that the secret to a good joke-” he says softly, ducking his head just enough that his lips are inches from hers. He looks up at the ceiling above them and Annabeth follows his gaze.

Hanging just over them, so low that it brushes the top of Percy’s hair, mistletoe. Percy presses into her a little tighter and Annabeth lets out a laugh. He closes the gap between them, his lips taking hers in with practiced ease, and Annabeth is struck once more at how incredible it is to have something to old, so reliable and stable feel so new and exciting. Percy’s hand cups the back of her head, just under where the book hit her, and he runs his finger over her cheekbone when he pulls away.

“-is surprise.”


End file.
